


Drinking Isn't Always Fun

by Ozzyyy



Category: Video Blogging RPF
Genre: Adopted Children, Alternate Universe - Foster Family, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Anxiety Attacks, Child Neglect, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Excessive Drinking, Found Family, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Older Sibling Wilbur Soot, Parent Phil Watson (Video Blogging RPF), Past Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Past Child Abuse, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Protective Wilbur Soot, Tommy has PTSD in this because I have PTSD always :D, Wilbur Soot and Technoblade and TommyInnit are Siblings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-15
Updated: 2021-01-15
Packaged: 2021-03-13 07:47:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,037
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28774803
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ozzyyy/pseuds/Ozzyyy
Summary: Phil is out of town and told Wilbur and Techno they could have some friends over to play mario kart n shit if they wanted. He allowed them to drink on the one circumstance that Tommy was okay with it, considering he was a minor and cannot drink.Tommy's too scared to say that he can tell the second they bring alcohol into the house because he can feel his heart beat faster.So he says its okay. Mistake number 1.
Relationships: Wilbur Soot & TommyInnit
Comments: 32
Kudos: 1082





	Drinking Isn't Always Fun

**Author's Note:**

> tw: alcohol and drinking! implied past drink involved abuse and alcoholism from Tommy's past shitty foster parents/ and or his bio parents. Wilbur offers Tommy a sip of alcohol once but he definitely wouldn't let Tommy get drunk or drink more than a sip, he's just trying to be the cool older brother. PTSD flashbacks/anxiety attacks. 
> 
> \--
> 
> I'll be honest, I don't know if Tommy even LIKES the movie Up, I just see it in every fic that they use it to calm him down so HERE I AM--   
> This is from the dredges of my old fics that I cleaned up and posted while I'm working on gettin' my mojo back <3 this one is definitely near and dear to my heart bc i really put Wilbur as the big brother figure we all wished we had.

Alcohol was never something Tommy found worth the hassle. Stuff disgusting tasting shit down your throat for a buzz that leaves more consequences then are worth it. Makes you do dumb shit you wouldn't sober, looser in your inhibitions. Fuck that shit. 

It's only.... he's never told anyone that. Which is probably something he should have done a couple months into his adoption. Or maybe before Phil left for the weekend. Before Wilbur told them with a grin that he'd be inviting a few friends over for drinks, since dad had finally caved in. He had to only invite a few and keep the drinks away from Tommy, of course, but otherwise they were allowed to hang out. 

Tommy was, in short, horrified. 

Hiding in his room definitely wasn't going to cut it the entire night. He knew Wilbur and Techno's friends, they're good people. It's just Niki, Fundy, Jack, George and Dream. He talked to them on a near daily basis. They've never raised their voice to him, never even implied in a serious sense that they'd hurt him. And his brothers definitely wouldn't stand for it if they did. 

But that didn't stop him from curling up on his side in the dark, waiting with eyes shut and breath heavy as the night progressed. He soon realized there was some issues with this idea. 

One, he was hungry. Usually this wasn't a problem, but since his recovery with his family, they'd insisted on him eating at least two meals a day. And since eating regularly, his stomach had accustomed to the steady food plan. Which meant his years of waiting out starvation were definitely over, and he was really craving some pizza.

Two, he had to go to the bathroom eventually. The bathroom was, of course, across the large living room space that they were all lounging in, playing video games and passing around a bottle or two. He'd need to pass through to get there. Tommy already dodged them last time by feigning asleep when they knocked on his door to ask if he wanted to join them. He knew, mildly, that they were just trying to be nice, involve him in what they did. Wilbur's friends were his friends too. They must feel at least a little annoyed he didn't bother to say hello. 

He groans and shoves his face into his hands. This was the worst. Why didn't he just tell them he wasn't... alright with alcohol?  
His brain helpfully juts in, of course he couldn't do that. And ruin their fun? Because of his own issues? That'd be selfish. He couldn't just ask them to stop doing the things they enjoyed because he was too much of a pussy to handle the smell of alcohol, much less seeing drunk people. 

His fingers tap against his phone, thoughts brewing in his skull. He wants to call Phil. His instincts are screaming at him to call his dad and bring him home. Fuck the conference, fuck the late night drive, he needed someone who Tommy knew would be on his side, and it was always his dad first. 

Well. Wilbur, first. But that wasn't an option right now. 

The smell of hot pizzas drift through the house, making his stomach gurgle. Someone approaches his door and he watches with meek acceptance as he hears Techno knock on it. 

"Pizza's here, come grab a slice. Or let us know what else you'd want to eat." He offers, his shrug audible. Tommy sighs, eyes watering.

"I'm coming." He says, putting his force into making himself sound normal. If Techno hears something wrong, he doesn't say it as he turns on his heels and heads back to the living room. 

Tommy stands and holds the bedroom door handle with bated breath. Outside, he hears his brother Wilbur's giggling laugh, head knocked back in drunken bliss. He was okay, he was happy. They were laughing, they were being nice. 

Fuck. 

He steps out shakily, knees feeling weak. It was four steps to the end of the hallway, five to the kitchen island, then five back and the last four to his room. Eighteen steps. That was it. 

One, two, three, four. He's unnoticed. Pizza's on the counter, Techno dragging a slice onto a flimsy paper plate and walking off with a red tinge to his cheeks. Even he was a little buzzed, it seemed. Doesn't matter-- the pizza is right there and this is easy. He's done this millions of times. 

Five, six, seven, eight, nine-- He's at the counter and grabs a plate, grabbing nonsensically at any slice he can get his hands on. The panic and hunger are making him more dizzy than he should be. Three slices will last him through the night, for sure. 

An arm slings over his shoulders. His muscles tense, jaw tight. 

"Tommy!" Wilbur says kindly, jostling his younger brother's form in jest, "You've been such a hermit all night! Where've you been?" He sounds pretty observant, conscious, at least. His words only drag on maybe a half a second longer then they should. 

"Work." Tommy says, curt. His mouth is dry, his hands stilled on the pizza. He can see the slight tremble grow worse as a wave of nausea begins to crawl up his throat. He needs to go. He needs to leave. He can't stand seeing Wilbur like this, thinking the things that his mind is suggesting will happen. Wilbur isn't like that, he isn't. He wouldn't. 

Tommy feels sick. 

Wilbur whines, pouting, "You're so boring! C'mon, we're gonna play uh--" He snaps his fingers a few time, eyes squeezed shut as he thinks, "Mario Driving. The racing game but with Toad because I wanna see if Niki can beat me while drunk--" 

"Mario Kart." Tommy cuts in. 

"Mario Kart!" Wilbur grins and mussies his hair, "You're so smart-- Okay, no seriously-- come play with us!" He playfully lowers his voice though not enough to even suggest he's being quiet, "And if you don't tell dad, I think it'd be ok if you sneak a sip or two--" 

"No!" Tommy cries out, suddenly flailing in his brother's arms and shoving him as hard as he could away from Tommy. Wilbur balks, unsteady on his feet and tripping backwards a few steps. His cheeks are flushed with red, eyes glassy, but his eyebrows are clearly furrowed in worry. Tommy can almost see the fun drunken feeling fade from Wilbur as he attempts to sober up. 

"Tommy?" 

"No--" Tommy chokes out, fists curled at his side and leaving his pizza (he dropped it on the floor-- Fuck fuck fuck fuck--). He backs into the counter, hands gripping the marble counter top and trying to inch his way towards his hallway. Numbers fly past his eyes as he tries to think through his process again. How many steps had he taken? Had he even taken any? He was so confident it was only.... only five steps back? But he's taken what feels like twenty and has made no closer progress. 

His muscles twitch for other directions that don't exist, following a house blueprint that he's not in anymore. Left, right, seven steps down the stairs and hop the washing machine to get to the closet. Ten steps up the ladder into the attic, an hour until mom stops yelling-- 

Tommy lets out a shuddering gasp, tears flowing freely down his cheeks now, feeling lost in a sea of conflicting realities. 

Wilbur gapes, feeling the panic seep at the drowsy bleariness that came with a mild buzz. He rushes forward to help Tommy to the ground as his knees buckle under him. He lets out a hissed, "Back-- don't come close--" Over his shoulder to Techno and his fairly concerned friends. 

Wilbur's thumbs rub circles into the boy's hand, "Toms, Tommy, it's okay, it's me. It's okay," He swallows hard around the lump in his throat, guilt biting at his tongue, "Deep breaths. You're alright, you're okay." 

Tommy lets out a shuddering breath, hiccuping as he grips his brother's hands tightly. 

"S'drink'n. I can't--" He stifles out, biting back a sob. 

Wilbur covers his mouth, trying to stop any smell of booze that may be left on his breath. He scrambles over to the closest drawer, knowing they left random junk in it. He searches around before finding the altoids tin box with a thankful huff. He practically downs half the box, crunching it up and ignoring the light pain of sharp mint. He breathes into a hand cupped around his mouth, satisfied that he's mulled most of the alcohol smell. 

He still pops one into his mouth and pockets the tin, returning back to Tommy to hold his hands. 

"It's good, I'm good, Tommy-- I'm not drunk, I swear. I was a little buzzed, that's it. I'm in complete control, alright? No one-- No one else is gonna drink." 

Tommy peeks open a watery eye and looks at his brother. He still had a red hue to his cheeks and under his eyes, but his eyes were sharp and focused, his words forced into cohesive understanding. He wasn't drunk. Tommy had seen drunk. The kind of drunk that made you do bad things. Wilbur wasn't that. 

His shoulders loosen up. Tommy gazes over his shoulder at his friends, all looking on with wide eyes and clearer soberness than Tommy had heard in his room. Even if they were drunk, it didn't stop them from worrying. None of them joked, teased, injured him. Wilbur was still there rubbing his knuckles and watching him with clear concern. 

That hit a little harder than Tommy wanted. Because that meant, even when his parents were drunk, they did what they wanted to and blamed it on the drink. 

Tommy leans forward and buries his face in Wilbur's sweater, hiccuping as fresh tears spill over his cheeks. 

"Hold on, Toms, c'mere," Wilbur seems a little worried, so Tommy lets him pull him upright and into Tommy's room. Wilbur raises his hands, palms out and gives him a smile, "I'll be right back, okay? My clothes smell kinda alcohol-y. One second--" He backs out of the room and leaves for a second, closing the door behind him. 

Moments later, Wilbur's back in a newly cleaned sweater, looking a lot more refreshed. 

"Do you need a hug?" Wilbur asks, approaching Tommy but keeping his distance. This was Tommy's space, he was the one in charge of where Wil was. 

Tommy, with a quivering lip, simply raises his hands and reaches out for Wil, who holds back a coo as he sweeps his brother into a hug. 

"I'm sorry Toms, I didn't know--" 

"I shou've told you but I was scared." 

Wilbur holds him a little tighter, "You don't have to hide triggers away from us." 

"Didn't wanna ruin... ruin your fun n' stuff..." 

"It's not fun if you're not happy too." 

Tommy chokes up at that, biting hard on his lip, "'Love you." He mumbles, thankful for the smell of laundry detergent and pine that seemed to follow his brother. It was such a different, more comforting, smell then the thick alcohol present in the house. 

"Love you too, Toms. I got you, alright? We won't do any more drinking in the house. And I'm gonna tell Phil too." 

Tommy whines at that, "Do you have to?" 

"He's our dad, Toms. He needs to know how to take care of you best. What if that happens and we're out in public? Dad wouldn't know what to do to help you. Hell, I didn't even really know, I just guessed." 

"You guessed mostly right." He says under his breath. 

"Not good enough." 

"Mmph." Tommy hums, knocking his head with his brother's in joking, "You can go out and play your games n' stuff, it's ok." 

"I don't wanna leave you alone right now. And I'm definitely not drinking. They can keep playing, I can stay here with you." 

Tommy hiccups slightly, wiping at the tears on his face, "C-can we watch Up?" 

Wilbur chuckles, soft and full, nothing like the irresponsible giggle or cackle he'd heard before, "Of course, Tommy. We can set it up on my laptop."

**Author's Note:**

> Sorry for the abrupt ending, just wasn't sure where I was going with it. I promise Phil gives them a light scolding for giving him grey hairs and they all end up okay <3


End file.
